As I walk down the road cars hurtle past. Wind picking up, warm and giddy. I veer off into a small woodland of beech and sycamore and ferns.Leaning against a tree to draw I feel a thud, and another . Looking up, the treetops are swaying into each other. It surprises me to feel the tremor descend the trunk of the tree and down through my body to my feet. I draw a beech and let my eye follow the shape of the branches. My hand knows what to do.